


Pseudonym

by Tegaladwen



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Era, Angst with a Happy Ending, Child Neglect, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Past Child Abuse, Past Torture, Tarsus IV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 12:37:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15437211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tegaladwen/pseuds/Tegaladwen
Summary: None of the names he's been known by have ever felt like they fit. Not even Jim.When Jim is lost, it's up to Bones to help him find himself.





	Pseudonym

Jim Kirk never quite felt like a person. He was just a collection of adjectives, of pseudonyms, of words that never fit right. He was a survivor, a fighter, a worthless, womanizing, idiotic, broken, genius conglomeration of meaningless words. Nothing was  _ him. _

To his mother, he was James, when she bothered to acknowledge his presence at all. Sometimes he wasn’t sure she knew he existed. Hell, _he_ wasn’t even sure he existed. James was a neglected, intelligent, reckless, dumb kid. And _he_ wasn’t that. He wasn’t anything. 

According to Frank, he didn’t have a name. He wasn’t even human. He was just a punching bag of skin to bruise and bones to break. He just a body with no brain, a terrified ant under a magnifying glass.  He’d been sent away from that life. It wasn’t him either.

To Kev and Tom and the rest of the Nine, he was J.T. He was wild with hunger and cold-blooded out of a paternal protectiveness of his kids. He was a killer, a thief, a broken shell of a boy who had lived beyond his worth. He was hunted, a feral animal bent on avoiding capture at all costs. He was tortured within an inch of his life from hunger and fear and the lashes of Kodos’ whips. Once Starfleet had come for them, J.T. had let himself die on Tarsus IV, and out of his skin stepped a young man with no identity, no home, no family, nothing to go towards but plenty to run from. 

To the stream of women he’d been with, he didn’t have a name. He was just a one-night-stand, a drifter, a womanizer, a scumbag, a good fuck, a bit of fun. He was a discarded toy, made to be used once and tossed back into the pile. He wasn’t really that, he thought, but he sure as hell wasn’t anything else either. He was nothing. 

To Captain Pike, he was Kirk. His father’s son. The legacy of a man who had given his life to save so many others. He was an opportunity, a project. He was untapped potential with a bloody nose and a broken, wasted spirit. Pike knew he was a man who couldn’t resist a challenge, and using that, he'd formed him into something else: a Starfleet cadet. He was numb to it all. Everything was changing, new labels were being applied, things were  _ happening _ _,_ but not to him.

Now, going to the Academy, he was Jim, but the name felt strange rolling off his tongue, as if it was a shirt that fit too tight. But that wasn’t unusual. His names were always just uncomfortable masks over a faded face. They weren’t  _ him. _ They were never  _ him. _ He was nobody, no one. He was a puzzle piece that wasn’t part of the picture this world was trying to create.

When he introduced himself to the man next to him on the shuttle, he stumbled a little over the name. But the guy,  _ Bones, _ didn’t notice a thing. He spoke Jim’s name like an anthem from day one, so assured and casual but so full of meaning that Jim himself couldn’t help but listen.

* * *

He was drunk the night everything changed. Bones found him in their room, sitting in the middle of the floor, eyes closed, trying to disappear into the nothingness where he knew he belonged. When the doctor asked him what on Earth he thought he was doing, Jim couldn’t reply. He was just a ghost. Why should he bother to speak? Who would care to listen? Jim would fade into the background soon enough anyway, just like everyone else he used to be. Everyone else he  _ never _ was.

But Bones just wouldn’t be quiet. He was kneeling in front of Jim now, hands on his shoulders, asking questions Jim couldn’t answer. He sounded so damn worried, and whether Jim liked it or not, McCoy was his friend ( _ Jim’s  _ friend), and he owed him an attempt at a couple of words at least.

He opened his eyes and looked at the doctor, and he said, “There are too many names, and none of them are mine.” After taking a large swig of alcohol, he managed to get up the courage to admit what he’d known his whole life. “I’m nobody.”

There was a pause, so full of tension that Jim had to close his eyes again to escape it.

Then, Bones started speaking, tone gentle. “Jim, you’re… Listen kid, I don’t what what the hell you’re thinking, but you’re sure as hell not nobody. Just… what’s going on here?”

And maybe it was the anthemic way that Bones spoke this name, or the gruffness in his voice that he only acquired when a patient was at death’s door, or the fact that Jim had gotten closer to the doctor than he’d realized, but finally,  _ finally, _ he opened his mouth, and told the man everything. He told him all the names he’d had and the ones he hadn’t, all the adjectives people had thrown his way and how they never quite stuck but never completely slipped away, how he was a square peg in a sea of round holes, how there just wasn’t room for him anywhere he went, how he had long outstayed his welcome in this life, always existing as an imposter in someone else’s shoes that were never going to fit him no matter how hard he tried.

And Bones listened, just listened, until Jim’s voice faded into nothing. He cleared his throat after a few seconds of silence, and spoke in a voice that was so unlike his usual sarcasm that Jim barely recognized it. “Kid-  _ Jim,  _ I-” Jim looked up at his friend to find tear tracks on Leonard's face that matched his own. “Damn it, kid. I- I’m a little lost here, and I don’t know everything-”

“You don’t?” Jim said, trying for his usual wit but falling dismally short.

“Shut up and listen to me, alright? I’m already having enough trouble thinking of what to say without you jumping in.” He gave his friend a small smile. “I don’t know everything, kid, but I do know this. You’re not some fucking... mess of things other people have said about you. They don’t know shit. Other people don’t know a damn thing when it comes to you or me or anyone else. They don’t know what you’ve been through, and they don’t get to decide who you are because they thought they knew you once. They only know a bit of you, and granted, it’s part of you, I’ll give ‘em that. But only _you_ get to decide how it affects you and only you get to decide who you are _now_. James, and J.T., and Kirk, they were all you once, or maybe they weren’t, I don’t know. Either way, you’re the only one that gets to decide how they made you what you _are._ _Who_ you are. 

“Look, darlin,’ I really don’t know what to tell you, but I do know that the person sitting in front of me sure as hell fits into Starfleet. He fits everywhere I’ve seen him. And he… he fits into my life, too. You’re my best friend, Jim.” Bones searched his companion, who was still sitting brokenly and drunk on the dorm room floor. 

Jim blinked at the ground.  _ You’re my best friend, Jim. _ He didn’t trust himself to speak, not a single word, because he didn’t want to forget the way that Bones had said  _ Jim _ that time. Like he believed it, like Jim wasn’t something to be tossed aside, wasn’t worthless, wasn’t on death row, wasn’t nobody.  _ You’re my best friend, Jim.  _ The words bounced around in Jim’s head, and he waited anxiously for the familiar uncomfortable twinge at being put somewhere he didn’t belong, but… it never came.

For the first time in his life, Jim began to understand who he was, where he belonged. His place was right next to his best friend, the man who would be with him through thick and thin, the man who spoke his name like it was right, like it was _home_. The man who made him realize that he wasn’t James, J.T., Kirk. He wasn’t a reckless, worthless, wild, cold-blooded, womanizing  _ nobody. _ He wasn’t a conglomeration of adjectives and masks but of experiences and people, of traumas and joys. He was Jim. Christ, he was  _Jim_.

“Bones, I… thank you.”

He wondered if McCoy understood just how much he was thanking him for. Bones had done the impossible. He’d given Jim a space to occupy, a  _life_ , and he was going to do his best to live it as himself, with his best friend beside him for as long as he wanted to be.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this short little story! Thank you for reading!  
> (Note: This is a revised version of my old story that was posted on fanfiction.net under the same name in 2016.)


End file.
